


free-falling

by hoshi_ni_natte



Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen, Shouka Sonjuku era, happy peaceful days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27740614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoshi_ni_natte/pseuds/hoshi_ni_natte
Summary: Katsura takes a minute. He takes his hands to his hair and tightens his ponytail. He takes off his haori, folds it up, and places it neatly beside the green book and the maroon scabbard. He takes a deep breath and, with all the strength and courage he can muster along with all his gratitude for the home he’s found amidst this ridiculous lot of them, without fear, he takes a stance, takes a chance. And then, he takes the plunge.
Relationships: Katsura Kotarou & Takasugi Shinsuke & Sakata Gintoki, Katsura Kotarou & Yoshida Shouyou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	free-falling

**Author's Note:**

> uh. inspired by [this scene](https://64.media.tumblr.com/aa7aa44b573dc0c4aa4c33b5d8740d7c/tumblr_pf5xn2naPg1ujusd3o1_r1_500.gifv) i know this scene was about something else but i thought i'd write something anyway. next to joy4 my gintama favorite is shouka sonjuku because i have taste. i have a mental catalogue of all shouka sonjuku-era scenes from the anime and other random official art and i cant stop thinking about it. feel like pure shit i just want those days back x ANYWAY LOL here's a peaceful shouka sonjuku era fic just because

For several reasons, Katsura had already known that Takasugi and Gintoki were up to no good when they snuck off somewhere along the way. It’s just that, like the rest of the class, he was too captivated by Shouyou waxing poetic about the wisdom waves crashing into the shore can impart on them all as the sea breeze caressed his hair and his haori to care too much, or much at all. While those brash brats can stupidly stir up a ruckus with their disputes whether with bamboo swords or brushes and ink, absolutely _nothing_ could ruin such a beautiful day when that morning Shouyou had, on a whim like he does most things, decided to take them out for a session over a leisurely stroll on the beach then a picnic right after.

It was only after dutifully helping Shouyou distribute the onigiri they’d made earlier among his classmates that he made up his mind to try to figure out where those two wandered off to, and what ever for. Katsura hoped to tell on them to Shouyou because he should have at least _minded_ that Gintoki and Takasugi made off with one of the watermelons everyone lugged over to share for dessert once cooled in the water after lunch, but eyes crowded into crescents by cheeks stuffed to the limit with rice as he chewed heartily, Shouyou simply smiled at him.

Katsura felt defeated then; that smile was the slightly silly, slightly sly little smile he only ever wears around the three of them, himself and Gintoki and Takasugi. Even if notwithstanding their increasing antics Shouyou can insist that they secretly get along— just without comprehending it or bothering to attempt to because it barely matters— Katsura couldn’t imagine that those two specifically deemed halving a watermelon between them peacefully more appealing than one of Shouyou’s exceedingly meaningful lectures.

Peace doesn’t appeal to them _period,_ Katsura concluded, and it’s why he politely excused himself to go retrace the group’s footprints in the sand and find the point where a pair of pairs strayed. He continued along it with mild attentiveness, and the fork in the path led towards a huge rock formation that lined a part of the dull bronze coast in gray and silver, rising up towards a cliff where he, for better or worse, spotted the figures of the incorrigible Takasugi and Gintoki.

Katsura ups his pace into an uncomfortable jog and throws an arm up to get their attention. He’s about to call out to them, too, but as soon as he’s close enough to make out more than the contrast of the dark of Takasugi’s hair swallowing up sunshine while the light of Gintoki’s reflected it bright enough to blind, he finds that only Takasugi’s picked up on his presence, because he’s currently lifting a finger to his lips and demanding his silence.

It isn’t to heed him that Katsura quiets as he treads his saltwater-soaked sandals up the incline, but Takasugi approves nevertheless, promptly ignores the eyebrow cocked at him in caution and suspicion. He cups a hand over Katsura’s mouth as soon as he’s within range before cupping the other over his own, the former to keep their keeper from asking what on Earth they think they’re doing in a place like this because there is no doubt that he will, and the latter to stifle chuckles as he whispers his answer in a childish _ain’t-it-obvious??_ tone in kind: _“Watermelon-splitting!”_

In turn, Katsura turns his attention to _Gintoki,_ who’s poised in all his glory with the sword he treasures like a lifeline unsheathed, as if to make an enemy of the early summer sky and sea. His focus would be plenty praiseworthy, if he weren’t actually just targeting a lone _watermelon,_ and if he weren’t actually _blindfolded,_ weren’t inching closer and closer to the edge of an actual _cliff._

Either way, it has Katsura utterly stunned. He’s compelled not to protest by both the sticky, sweaty palm on his face and a conviction borne from the fact that Gintoki ultimately deserves what’s coming to him for letting Takasugi even goad him into something this absurd in the first place, because hasn’t he learned that Takasugi’s a different breed of ruthless when it comes to their rivalry?

Not without loathing it, Katsura can perfectly picture how the situation’s ended up like this. See, Takasugi is faster to fall for cheap provocation from Gintoki over trivial things like how he’s unlikely to catch up to him in neither height nor wins in their growing match record, but Gintoki, _Gintoki_ has a penchant for never backing down from a challenge, and if Takasugi dared him to cover his eyes and sniff out a watermelon on a precipice then cut it down with a sacred blade, he’d up and go do it without a hint of hesitation.

He’d up and _keep going,_ one steady step at a time, until one of his feet touches the watermelon faster than he can make sense of his disorientation. Before the instinct to swing kicks in, Gintoki kicks inadvertently, and then he staggers, his earlier concentration-fueled agility collapsing and giving way to a display of disgrace and ungracefulness as his weight hauls him cleanly past the verge.

The second Gintoki literally falls out of sight, Takasugi’s chuckles evolve into cackles that even his hand can’t contain, and Katsura gapes, smacks his forearms down, and glares at him with wide, accusing eyes. “Are you _out of your mind??!”_

“He’ll be fine!” Takasugi wheezes, clutching at his sides, because Katsura acting like he’d just at best witnessed and at worst become an accomplice to a murder is making this way funnier than he could have imagined, and it has him doubling over for real. “It’s just water down there, don’t worry!”

At that, Katsura feels… _some_ relief, just enough to calm down the shock, sigh out a shallow _“Ah…”_ Still, he frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, because a belated realization starts to dawn on him: “Didn’t Gintoki say he doesn’t know how to swim, though…? He wasn’t excited about the last-minute field trip Shouyou-sensei planned…”

At _that,_ Takasugi stops laughing abruptly, drops it entirely, and when he swipes tears from laughing too hard away from his eyes, it isn’t to make room for more. It’s so he can see clearly when he hastily crawls over to the brink, searches the expanse for Gintoki and finds him instantly, a flailing, howling mess sloshing noisy and turbulent among the otherwise calm and level low tide.

Before Katsura can blink Takasugi is snatching the green book within which Shouyou’s teachings are enclosed from under his shirt where he keeps it closest to his heart, tossing it towards a maroon scabbard lying around a ways away from them. And before Katsura can even say anything about it, Takasugi’s already jumping in after Gintoki.

The splash is a distant sound that doesn’t distract Katsura from the panicked thoughts that race through his head; quite frankly, he has no idea what he should do. He chances an exceedingly careful glance down and registers Takasugi rushing towards Gintoki, but he’s aware that Gintoki has always been stronger, and the odds of Gintoki dragging Takasugi down to drown with him before Takasugi can drag Gintoki out of the water are way too high. Even if he sprinted back at full-speed, calling for others to rescue them would take way too long; besides, what would he even say to Shouyou? Where would he even begin? With how Gintoki and Takasugi were being idiots, as if that isn’t already constant, common knowledge? Worst of all, he’ll get in trouble for not keeping them in line, too, and Shouyou will raise a hand and plant all three of them into the ground, and then—

—Then all at once, Katsura regains his composure, and he holds fast to it. Shouyou’s smiling face flashes through his mind, the one that’s testament to the unconditional fondness and faith he harbors for the three of them, his special, _special_ students, the one that lays claim to how at ease and at peace he can remain in spite of Gintoki’s and Takasugi’s bickering, in spite of anything and everything that can or will happen from here on out, because they have Katsura to look after them, after all.

Katsura takes a minute. He takes his hands to his hair and tightens his ponytail. He takes off his haori, folds it up, and places it neatly beside the green book and the maroon scabbard. He takes a deep breath and, with all the strength and courage he can muster along with all his gratitude for the home he’s found amidst this ridiculous lot of them, without fear, he takes a stance, takes a chance. And then, he takes the plunge.

He gives, free-falling into the fray, an indescribable and invincible exhilaration washing over all of him along with saltwater waves when he dives in and under, opens his eyes in his deepest point to observe through the cloudless, blameless water his friends’ pathetic limbs. He shakes his head to himself and at the bubbles, reluctant to lose them to the sea when all the other seasons are waiting for them to be idiots through together, roasting then burning sweet potatoes in the autumn, building then melting snowmen and snow-bunnies in the winter, watching and waiting for the cherry blossoms in the spring, and this crazy watermelon-splitting in the summer all over again. So, he comes up to take them, breathe them in.

While Takasugi is surprised that Katsura’s joined them, he isn’t thankless, because Gintoki is a force to be reckoned with to begin with and exponentially more so when in survival mode like he is now because hilariously, it’s true that he never did learn how to swim, and at this rate he probably never will, either. And a struggling, hysterical Gintoki would’ve been impossible to handle by himself, but with Katsura it’s about manageable to make it back to shore like this. They end up in some secluded part of the beach, and after chasing their breaths and Gintoki shoving a handful of damp sand into Takasugi’s face for vengeance, they resolve to return to the rocks to gather their belongings.

Once they eventually make it there, Gintoki hurries towards the edge of the cliff again though this time with purpose, kneeling and bending over to reach for something, and by some strange automatic motion Takasugi follows forward to lend his hand to him for support, their grins mirroring in excitement and the willingness to move on altogether from the extreme prank gone wrong. Katsura has half a mind to decide which between them he should offer his dry haori to, but the other half wants to shout at them and threaten to kick them both over for obviously not learning their lesson about messing around in dangerous places.

Instead, he settles for standing back, standing down. At some point, Gintoki and Takasugi stumble backward from the force of pulling something free, and in a strange and awkward dance Gintoki rolls over and halts in a prideful pose, presenting his sword in his hand, four evenly sliced pieces of watermelon skewered along it. Katsura will admit that it was impressive that he’d _somehow_ quartered the watermelon perfectly, stabbed through all sections of it, and jammed the sword into the stone of the cliff to retrieve later before he fell to what could’ve easily been his death, but was it worth the heart attack? Seriously? Katsura’s about to allow himself an exasperated sigh when he catches Gintoki’s and Takasugi’s expressions change, but still twin in an unmistakable _fear._ Katsura understands it when he hears the voice behind him softly chime in:

“My, that’s quite the splendid show of skill there, Gintoki. Thank you for dividing it for the four of us.”

“Sh-Shouyou…” Gintoki mumbles, meekly though uninspired and unsurprised, because _of course_ like Katsura he’d known they were up to no good from the start, too. A shiver racks through him and Takasugi, but it’s not from the unpleasantly icy sensation of the wind chilling the wet clothes clinging to their skin.

Katsura turns his head to look up at Shouyou who’s in the middle of stripping his own haori and draping it over his small, sopping frame with large, firm hands. He looks on at Shouyou’s graceful passage, walking over to the rigid Gintoki and plucking one of the watermelon pieces off of the blade which he’ll pretend for a while to regret having given him at all, before spinning on a heel and leaning down to make quick work of collecting the scabbard, the book, and finally, Katsura’s haori, so that neither of them can have it.

When he meets Katsura’s gaze, he winks, and smiles that smile again. The colds Gintoki and Takasugi will inevitably catch from not drying their bodies off properly soon and the subsequent ban from the dojo will be enough to teach them their lesson. As for Katsura… _well._ Shouyou bites down on the watermelon to free a hand, but instead of forming it into a fist for an admonition which will risk sending the cliff completely crumbling and killing all of them in an avalanche of rocks, he puts it on Katsura’s hair and does nothing more than pat his head contentedly.

Giddily, Katsura slips his arms into the sleeves of Shouyou’s haori, and while Gintoki and Takasugi immediately proceed to fight about who between them should get hit first once they’re back at the school grounds because it sure as hell shouldn’t be _Zura,_ he steals a piece of watermelon for himself, too. He takes a refreshing bite out of it and trails after Shouyou happily, reveling in the warmth of his haori, the early summer sun, and this ridiculous companionship. In the end, he was right; for several reasons, his days are _far_ from ruined.

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry to the people subscribed to my account for anything else for posting another stupid gintama fic. i want to get out of here but i cant. god.  
> anyway if by some miracle someone reads this and likes joy4 and shouka sonjuku like me can i please have some chill gintama mutuals on [tweeber](http://twitter.com/YXRXZUYA) im lonely like i only got into gintama this year but i swear im chill when not crying over takasugi in private  
> or whatever ehehe. just let me know what you think if you wanna!! most of all, thanks for reading!!


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